


A Serious Bunburyist.

by amorremanet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Community: comment_fic, Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-15
Updated: 2009-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Harry looks like his heart's been kicked out.</i> (Inspired by <i>The Importance of Being Earnest</i>, and not actually the crack crossover it appears to be.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Serious Bunburyist.

"Cedric Diggory! ...What a perfectly ghastly state you've created — I can't even _begin_ to describe it."

Cedric looks up from his tea and muffins, and Harry can't put words on his expression either. There's confusion, amusement, obvious surprise at having been found out -- and something else. Something that's familiar and not, a remembrance of older things and entirely new in itself, intangible and so present. It wants Harry to like it, not to feel these complicated _things_ that are writhing around in his chest like a pit of snakes. He hasn't felt this way since his sixth year, and with Ginny there was never such a sinking feeling of regret.

For his part, Harry looks like his heart's been kicked out, he knows that he has to. He felt the color drain from his face as soon as he saw those unforgettable gray eyes. Even though Cedric's gotten older, those eyes haven't changed at all. Advancing on the cafe table, Harry's not sure how his legs still work; he's fairly certain that he's lost control of them. All Cedric does is smile placidly, as though nothing in the world is wrong at all, as though he hasn't been presumed dead for the better part of a decade, as though Harry hasn't just relocated him here, in this small town in America, of all places.

It isn't even one of the small towns like in Hermione's fiction books, with colorful characters and interesting shenanigans; by all appearances, Forks, Washington is cracker bland. All Harry can say for it is that, after nearly dying, much less dating Cho Chang, it must be a relaxing reprieve.

Frowning, Harry stands before Cedric, grim expectance gnawing him to the bones. Cedric is exceptionally well-dressed, for someone who's been "dead" for so long. Whatever he's been doing, it pays well and affords him enough time to keep in shape. Even sitting down, he's obviously fit — lean, muscular, still better at being the pretty boy Hogwarts Champion than Harry could ever be and, judging from his carriage, still so earnestly unaware of just how beautiful he is.

"Harry. You got tall." Gesturing at the plate besides him, he offers, "Muffin?"

Harry's heart sinks; he knows that he's gotten tall. "Yeah, I — it's been nine years—"

"Nine-and-a-half, actually," Cedric points out. "Really, you ought to try the muffins, Harry. They're homemade, absolutely exquisite."

Harry sits down opposite Cedric and crosses his arms over his chest. "You know... I've been through Auror training, I wasn't ever you or Hermione but I didn't do that badly in school, I faced the Dark Lord and his cronies — but how you can just sit there and _calmly eat muffins_ is beyond me."

"Well, I can't eat muffins in an agitated manner," Cedric says matter-of-factly. "The butter would probably get on my cuffs."

"Cedric!" Harry snaps.

"It's Edward, actually."

"Maybe to these people, but — dammit, you're always going to be Cedric to me."

Cedric arches his eyebrows and sips his tea. "Suit yourself."

"That's not the point!" Fire must have started burning in Harry's stomach, and now it sets his chest alight with indignation. "Cedric, it's — for _nine-and-a- **half**_ years, everyone in Britain's thought that you were _dead_. _I watched you die_ in that graveyard; I _saw_ Wormtail kill you. And now you just... turn up in _bloody America_ and act like it's not worth any sort of fuss! What the fuck! Have you been here this whole time, why _here_ — _what_ have you been _doing_ all this time?!"

Cedric shrugs. "Bunburying." Setting his tea down, he adds: "And don't think this hasn't been difficult for me, Harry, but I knew I couldn't just come back."

"You might've _tried_!" Harry's raising his voice and he doesn't much care that they're in public.

Cedric leans across the table and delicately kisses Harry. It's sweet, like his tea and muffins, and it's over far too quickly. "I've missed you every day, Harry. I mean it."

*******

Harry jolts awake, his sheets rumpled and his body covered in a cold sweat. Hunger twists his empty stomach, which growls loudly, the only noise at all in the flat. Bartleby must still be out hunting.

As he turns to face the other side of the bed, Harry isn't sure what he expects to see. It's been three months since Ginny left, telling Harry that he was too much concerned with the job and not enough so with _them_. Harry can't resent her or begrudge her a relationship with someone better; she and Luna have been happy together and he's gotten more than used to that side being cold.

And yet, he gets choked up when he sees that no one's there, when he feels cool cotton instead of someone's smooth, pale skin. The absence of that beautiful body, those pretty boy muscles and delicate bones, still makes Harry's heart twist uncomfortably. Those gray eyes still haunt him, and he tears up at the lack of them.


End file.
